


Expectations v Reality

by Red (Red_Balloons)



Series: Things are Going South [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (bc I know beat cops don't directly work with Detectives on the daily), (that one will make sense later), 60 | Cecil, Alternate Universe - Human, Cecil & Clark & Connor - triplets, Cecil is in the Police Academy, Clark is FBI, Connor is a Beat Cop (working towards Detective), Gen, Hank is Connor's Superior, Nines | Clark, There's a whole story there, Triplets were weirdly birthed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Balloons/pseuds/Red
Summary: Cecil finds an interesting account on Instagram.ANDSimon worries about his friend.
Series: Things are Going South [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551688
Kudos: 6





	Expectations v Reality

The reflective surface of the closet mirror being hit by the sun was a hellish way to wake up, Cecil has found. As have his brothers – having one visiting and the other allowing you to live with him would allow for such a collective learning curve. Apparently. Cecil squints into his empty coffee mug as he waits for a new batch to brew (and mentally cursing both of his older brothers for drinking it all and not making a new pot for him, but also completely understanding the pettiness behind their decision not to – if either of them had made an unholy screech at six in the morning on his day off he’d probably do something similar to them in revenge).

Some part of Cecil worried about getting to his class on time. But he was fine, plenty of time to drink a whole pot of coffee and get dressed and ready to leave.

Today was one of his weirdly scheduled days after all. All he had today was one class and two hours in the gym. And a mile run before bed.

Busy but weird day.

Cecil considered filling his day with vegging out on the couch and lurking on social media when he wasn’t putting in his physical training hours before shaking his head. No, that’d be counter-productive. Probably. Would it be? Logically speaking, if he did more at the gym and pushed himself harder when he did his mile (maybe go two?) then he’d be able to spend some time just lounging around without worrying about undoing what his exercising was supposed to be doing.

Turning towards the now finished coffee pot, Cecil played around with his day.

Because he wanted time to browse, dammit!

Would Clark even allow him to lounge if he did any of this? Or Connor for that matter, since he was stricter about the physical aspect of police training than the one in the actual FBI.

Did the FBI even do physical training? _Did they need it?_ Was that why Clark was so calm about it?

Cecil makes a whining noise to himself as he lifts the undoctored cup of coffee to his lips. The bitterness woke him up a bit. And shocked his brain away from the current running of his thoughts ( _thank God for that too_ ).

Instead, he put his attention on his phone and pulled up one of his few social media accounts. (Having two brothers already intent on being members of law enforcement kind of killed the want for multiple accounts. Scary stories and all that were abundant when Clark was going through the academy and Cecil was still working through high school. What a dick. But Cecil could manage Twitter and Instagram without having Clark’s scary stories replaying in his head with him as the main character.) The feed on Twitter was interesting – something completely random was trending today and he had no idea, when pressing it, that it’d lead to a compilation of some idiot videoing himself.

But those videos man. What talent.

A four foot jump vertically? Damn. Something Cecil really hoped to be able to do at some point, for sure. Especially with how fucking smooth the guy transitioned from that jump into a… _Cecil didn’t even know what to call that move, what the fuck._

When he finally came across a post with the man’s account, Cecil instantly moved to follow the man. (And internally cheered that he didn’t have to download another media platform.) _Three Hours_ sounded like there was a story behind it.

As did the man’s mask.

Was that fucking hand made?

Or just made to look like it was?

What?

> _**C-Minor**  
>  [attached link]_  
> asldhakwjnasdhakwejflshdk
> 
> **_C-Forgotten_**  
>  About time you’ve caught on to his existence.
> 
> **_C-Minor  
> _** CONNOR DONT TEASE!  
> How long as this man been doing this?
> 
> **_C-Forgotten  
> _** awhile
> 
> **_C-Minor  
> _** AHHHHHAksdanwjwehf;kdjsa
> 
> **_C-Forgotten  
> _** Good talk.

Cecil made a strangled sound at his phone – and his brother, damn it Connor – before finishing up his second cup of coffee. And then pausing to question when the hell he’d made it.

“What the fuck is today?”

* * *

“Three males in the house and none of us have ever invested in an at-home gym set?”

“Why would we do that?”

Cecil makes a face at Connor before shoving a large bite of burger into his mouth. (He did it only to get Connor and Clark to wince. It’s always fun publicly embarrassing them.)

“Perhaps his reasoning is focused on the monetary aspect. Having an at-home gym set would save money more than a gym membership.” Clark wipes his mouth with a napkin before meeting Connor’s stare. Cecil’s eyes bounce between his older brothers as he slowly chews the food in his mouth.

This is always interesting to see. And hard as hell to force out of both of them at the same time. The Older Sibling stare. For all that Connor and Cecil are closer birth-wise, this stare was fully Connor and Clark’s way of silently communicating with each other without Cecil understanding where their thoughts are going. Doesn’t stop him from always trying though.

“I will look into it then,” Connor eventually relents, rolling his eyes when Cecil does a few quick fist pumps in triumph. “Give me a month before bringing it up again, alright?”

“New case come in?”

“Yes.”

Cecil winced as Clark’s face falls into his blank stare – the FBI stare, Cecil coined it – as he settles his hands on either side of his plate. “Need anything from my end or are you all able to handle it?”

“We don’t know much just yet, but if there is something you could do to help, I’ll let you know.”

“And if you need an outside perspective on something you think is asinine, I’m here,” Cecil offers up once his mouth is clear of food. The smile he got from Connor was more tiredly thankful than condescendingly exasperated. Which is always the preferred smile in Cecil’s honest opinion.

“Let’s finish up lunch now.”

“Yes dad.”

The cackle that left Cecil at Connor’s response was loud and ugly, he knows, but it was worth it. It wasn’t often that Connor sassed Clark. But boy when it happens, it’s the best fucking thing. Especially the face Clark always makes – that disappointed surprise he took from their mother when he’d turned sixteen and realized Connor and Cecil was his responsibility after the state emancipated him. _That_ look was rarer than Connor’s sass after the accident.

(Bad thoughts, Cecil, move away. Nice and calm like so they don’t latch on.)

* * *

“So you found a guy who breaks the law and posts about it?”

Cecil pointed a finger at one of his classmates he usually meets up with on Fridays to go through reps together at the gym. “Shut up. Watch enough videos, you can learn how he does what he does and manage to teach yourself about them,” he returns, huffing and going back to the lateral rises reps that he was halfway through.

“Oh yes,” one of the females of their group, always the one to sass everybody, “that makes his illegal activities better, Cease.”

“I’m not saying what he’s doing is good!”

“You’re not?”

“That’s new.”

Cecil coughs to avoid the building screech – he needs to stop doing that to his phone, it’s starting to bleed through to his daily activities – and shoots the final two women around them a disgruntled glare.

“Oh no, it’s the patent Cecil Glare guys!”

“Shut the fuck up, Kyle.”

“That’s not my name!”

“Then shut the fuck up! Maybe one of these days I’ll like you enough to use your actual name.”

“Is that why you never calls us our proper names? You don’t like us enough?”

“I like a few people among us now, but not everybody.”

“And you’re not telling.”

“Correct.”

The five others start laughing, a few of them having to set weights down before they were dropped on something breakable. Cecil watched all of them behind a mask he’d picked up from Connor, his fondness for all of them his own little secret because they’re all assholes who don’t deserve to know his feelings towards them. (And wow that’s such a Clark thought, the fuck. Maybe he needs more time _out_ of the house than in it. Was bringing up the possibility of an at-home gym a bad idea? Cecil doesn’t want to wind up a copy of either of brothers, that’s nightmare territory.)

“Oh no, he’s now got his scared look guys. What’s up, Cease?”

“Just…had a thought that felt more like Clark than myself.”

‘Kyle’ snorts and picks his weight back up to do his own lateral rises. “That’s so sad, you act like your family.”

“This is why I don’t like you, George.”

“Fuck you, still not my name.”

* * *

Three Hours updated while Cecil was at the gym. And he honestly _can’t_ with this man. How does one end up within a dumpster? Why a dumpster?

Cecil really wanted to see this man go through a psyche eval. And the people pointing out that they saw him? They should probably go through some themselves because what the fuck, society? And their protection of the man – while iconic and hilarious to watch from a police-officer-in-training’s point of view – must be very frustrating for the officers trying to catch the guy.

And…

Now that Cecil thinks about it, _is_ anyone even after him yet? The Twitter thread was still trying to connect together all of his possible sightings, so perhaps not. Not if it’s so hard to wade through every article ever about someone who does something random in the city of Detroit. (Because, let’s face it, Detroit was fucking weird. Cecil lived there after all, and hardly anybody looked at him weirdly for the shit he’s pulled.)

“That’s a serious face there.”

Cecil jumps a little before smiling at Clark’s neighbor. The large man was standing on the other side of the little fence that lined the property he shared with a friend and her daughter, hands wrapped around the push mower they had. His tall height was something of envy for Cecil, who was shorter than Connor, who barely came up to the man’s shoulders. (So he’s tiny compared to him.)

“Hi, Luther, and it was a very serious train of thoughts. You hear about Three Hours on Instagram yet?”

Luther tilts head before shaking it. “Can’t say I have. Should I look into it?”

“If you’re all for watching someone parkour his way through breaking laws, sure,” he returns, words wobbly from a laugh building in his throat.

“I’m sure Kara would love that, actually.”

“Glad I could help?”

Luther smiled, deep voice rumbling about in his chest. (It was a laugh? That’s the manliest laugh Cecil’s heard and now he can’t figure out if he should be in awe or filled with fear.)

“I’ll leave you to your yard work, Luther.”

“Have a nice day, Cecil.”

* * *

> **_Grump_**  
>  are u sure tht hes doing this all on purpose?
> 
> **_Uni-Corn  
> _** …all that shortening in the beginning and you come and pull our a word like ‘purpose’ on us?  
> Bruh
> 
> **_Grump  
> _** shut the fuck up  
> You get what I mean.  
> Cease, this Three Hours guy? Do you think it’s a publicity stunt or one of those weird adverts for something up coming?  
> is that better corn?
> 
> **_Uni-Corn  
> _** Sure, why not.  
> But I do agree with him; how do we know he’s actually doing this without the draw of money or something?  
> Ohno, long typing.
> 
> **_Grump  
> _** You’ve made him mad, Corn. Nice job. -_-
> 
> **_Cease and Desist  
> _** One: Mask  
> Two: how he won’t talk above a whisper and it’s mostly him cussing himself out.  
> Three: has there been anything talked about recently that might involve a parkouring dumbass?  
> Honestly guys, I’ve looked into it before sending you the account link. And Con’s aware of him but won’t tell me if he’s doing it with a permit of some sort or not. But he doesn’t like talking about it in front of Clark, so I’m fairly sure Three Hours isn’t fucking legally doing this.
> 
> **_Uni-Corn  
> _** Oh wow, thassalot.  
> Okay, serious time, I guess.  
> The mask could be new character coming out in the superhero mess that’s our childhoods. The whispering could add to the suspense and build-up until the movie or something. And how would we know? Was there anything talked about when Carrie was rebooted? Or the Blaire Witch Project?
> 
> **_Grump  
> _** I only remember the website-
> 
> **_Uni-Corn  
> _** My point, thanks G. And Connor and Clark aren’t the end-all-be-all of information that the law enforcement knows or not. So I don’t trust their silence on the matter explicitly, Cease.

Cecil groaned into his pillow, phone dropping beside his head as he considered his friends’ words. Three Hours _could_ be either – genuinely a dumbass or part of a promotional move for something upcoming. But Cecil just got this feeling that whoever was behind the mask was honestly getting himself into the situations _on his own_ , for whatever reason.

It was like that time when Connor got into a car accident and nobody knew where he was for a full day. Cecil had eventually picked up the phone and dialed the first hospital that jumped out at him in the phone book and asked for him. _And found him_. (The hospital number was at the _back_ of the phone book, a few pages after his mother had given up trying to call hospitals and start screaming at their dad for letting Connor go with one of his ‘newly licensed’ friends.)

(It was the first time Clark had to physically separate their parents. But before the accident that took parents from children three years later, it wouldn’t be the last. Not after their father got laid off and their mother wound up getting pneumonia earlier in the year. Cecil hadn’t known it then, but the sudden lack of incoming funds had strained both parents to the point they were always at one another’s throats. Especially when the lack of job stretched the years until their deaths.)

So Cecil was, essentially, torn between listening to his friends skepticism and his own gut instinct.

He closed his eyes and ignored the continuing buzz of his phone as more texts came in. He’s going to sleep on it and then consider the possibilities. That was a good idea, right? To wait until he had full mental function.

Right, he’ll do that.

Sleep.

* * *

Cecil sat at the tiny table in Clark’s dining room with Connor across from him. Behind him, in the kitchen, Clark was bustling about, making breakfast. It was a rare day where all three of them were free from waking to sleep, so it was the one day Connor and Clark forced family time. Cecil loved days like this, no matter how early his brothers woke him up.

He missed spending time with them like he had before all of them had graduated high school.

Not like he’d ever take these days easy on them. Oh no – today was the one day they spent every waking hour playing _board games_. For all that Cecil hardly won them, he made it impossible on Connor and Clark and the other two have yet to find a universal method of corralling him.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?”

Connor glanced up from the tablet he’d picked up the moment he left his room to smile beatifically at him. Cecil hated that smile. It was Connor’s stupid _oh boy_ smile he only gave out when he didn’t know if he should be bland or mischievous. Which usually meant, on days like today, that both him and Clark had _things_ planned for today.

Dammit.

But also yay – more ways to prove he’s the annoying little brother they couldn’t control.

“You’re gonna regret not telling me, hope you know.”

“Oh, I’m very aware how today will go,” and fuck, Clark’s doing it too? What’s with them being distant? What did they have planned? _Was making him anxious part of it?_ “Now eat up. Breakfast isn’t meant to get cold.”

“Fuck.”

“Language at the table, Cecil.”

“I don’t know about the table but I’m speaking English. Which would you prefer instead?”

Connor snorts into his food, shifting to hide his face from Clark. Cecil, though, caught the smile upon the other’s face and _beamed_ in pride.

“Just eat.”

“Okay.”

* * *

“I don’t get it.”

“You’re not supposed to, that’s the glorious part of this.”

“I hate you both.”

“Not you don’t, Cease.”

“No, I honestly, truly do.”

“Shut up the both of you. Cecil, you know very well what this game is.”

“But it isn’t a board game! It’s cards!”

“Astute, glad your education is taking you places. Don’t snort at me, Connor.”

“Sorry, Clark.”

“Why this game?”

“The horrors of all of our brains will be interesting.”

“That’s terrifying, Clark, why would you word it that way?”

“It’s Clark, Connor, what’d you expect?”

“Something a little more…dignified? I don’t know, but it wasn’t _that_.”

“You’ve made him mad, Con.”

“I can see that.”

“Can we play Card Against Humanity?”

(Connor won every round. Cecil is now officially terrified of him. He thinks Clark is too.)

* * *

Cecil blinked hard at his phone.

His screen didn’t change – the words were the same, the image and the video further down the page when he scrolls were the same. His heart squeezing in confusion was the same.

_Three Hours_ , apparently, _had decided to go live_.


End file.
